Page 186 of The Wild Card

So here we are. And I don’t care either way—boy, girl, surprise, no surprise. I just care that Emmie’s blood pressure has been slightly elevated the last two visits, and that Dr. Kohli said it was “nothing to worry about yet,” and I fixated on the word yet for three days.

I’ve read four books on pregnancy. Emmie thinks I’ve read two. The other two are hidden in my nightstand because one is called The Expectant Father’s Survival Guide and the other is What to Expect When She’s Expecting and You’re Quietly Losing Your Mind, and I have a reputation to maintain.

“Jensen?” A nurse appears in the doorway with a clipboard.

I’m on my feet before Emmie can move. I help her up—hand on her lower back, steady pressure, the way the book said—and she rolls her eyes but leans into it.

“I’m pregnant, not injured,” she murmurs.

“You’re carrying my child. I’m going to be annoying about it.”

“At least you’re self-aware.” She smiles, patting my chest.

The exam room is cold. I notice immediately. Too cold. Emmie’s in a thin gown, and she gets cold easily—has since the second trimester started.

“Excuse me,” I say to the nurse. “Is there a way to adjust the thermostat? Or a blanket?”

The nurse blinks. “Uh. Sure. Let me grab one.”

Emmie shoots me a look.

“What? You’re cold.”

“I didn’t say I was cold.”

“You have goosebumps on your arms, and you’ve been rubbing your hands together since we sat down.”

She stares at me for a second. Then her expression softens—goes liquid around the edges—and she reaches out and squeezes my hand.

“You notice everything,” she says quietly.

“Always have. You know that.”

The nurse returns with a blanket. I drape it over Emmie’s legs and sit in the chair beside the exam table.

Dr. Kohli comes in a few minutes later—mid-fifties, calm energy. “How are we feeling today?” she asks, scanning the chart.

“Good,” Emmie says. “Tired. Hungry constantly. The heartburn is pretty brutal.”

“She’s been up three times a night,” I add. “Twice to use the bathroom, once because of leg cramps. The cramps have been more frequent this week—is that normal at twenty weeks? I read it can be a magnesium deficiency.”

Dr. Kohli smiles. “It can be. We’ll check her levels. Anything else?”

“Her blood pressure was 128 over 82 at the last visit. That’s borderline stage one hypertension. You said it wasn’t concerning yet, but I’d like to understand what threshold we’re watching for and what the protocol would be if it trends higher.”

Emmie puts her hand on my knee. “Crew.”

“Also, she’s been having headaches. Not every day, but three times this week. Frontal. She says they’re tension headaches, but I want to rule out anything related to the blood pressure.”

“Crew.”

“And the prenatal vitamins—she switched brands last month because the first ones were making her nauseous. The new ones have less iron. Should we be supplementing separately?”

Dr. Kohli is looking at me with an expression I can’t quite read. Somewhere between amused and impressed. “Mr. Jensen, I have to say—you’re one of the most thorough partners I’ve had in this office.”

“He has a spreadsheet,” Emmie says.

Dr. Kohli laughs. “Let’s take a look at your baby, shall we?”